Oxford Blood (The Cavaliers: Book One)

by Georgiana Derwent

Harriet sat in her room, pondering the events of the night before. It had definitely been the oddest evening of her life. She expected the rejuvenating effects of the vampire blood to wear off after a few hours, but by lunchtime, her energy levels showed no sign of flagging. She longed to call one of her friends, but didn’t know where to start with an explanation, so instead went for a walk by herself until it was time for her tutorial.

  The beauty of the city soothed her as it always did. She brought herself a ham and brie baguette and a coffee, then ate them while strolling around the town. Inevitably, she bumped into a few people she knew and had hurried conversations with them, but generally, she managed to maintain the necessary degree of solitude. She enjoyed the crisp and clear weather, but after a while, the weak winter sun began to hurt her eyes, and she hurried back to college. Could it be a side effect of the blood?

  She went to her tutorial at two. After a few weeks at Oxford, she’d lost her original terror of tutorials, but still found them nerve-wracking. Her tute partner for the term was Callum, Olamide’s boyfriend, a boy who seemed to know everything about everything and barely left the library. The grumpy old tutor loved him and half the time the tutorials turned into a passionate debate between them, leaving her on the sidelines. She could never decide whether to be relieved that this took the pressure off her, or upset that they clearly regarded her as their intellectual inferior.

  On this occasion though, the vampire blood seemed to have stimulated her mind as well as her body. She remembered every detail of the books she’d read on the Civil War and quickly turned the facts into coherent arguments. Callum and the tutor stared at her, clearly impressed.

  “Of course, Edgehill was just so very frustrating,” she said suddenly. “That sense of a clear victory slipping out of our hands. The idiot Cavalry commanders pushing their luck and chasing the fleeing enemy. Why couldn’t they just have held their ground and stuck with the infantry?” Callum and the tutor stared at her, but she couldn’t stop.

  “It could so easily have been a decisive battle. Fucking Rupert had to go and ruin everything. The next thing I know, there’s Essex. Then James is dead beside me, and I’m the heir and it’s everything I ever wanted but not like this.”

  “Are you quite all right, Miss French?” the usually stern tutor asked in his gentlest voice. “Your knowledge of everyone’s position at Edgehill is certainly impressive, but perhaps you should get a little air. That’s enough for today. Mr Lucas, would you be so kind as to take Miss French back to her room?”

  “Are you okay, Harriet?” Callum said once they’d left the room. “I think I should take you to Ola, she’ll know what to do.”

  His voice brought her back to the moment. “I’m fine. I obviously spent far too much time working on this essay,” she said, managing a weak laugh.

  “Well, it paid off until the last moment. I’ve never heard anyone swear in a tutorial before,” Callum said, with an uncharacteristic grin. “Just one thing though, who on earth is James?”

  “James? What do you mean?”

  “You said something along the lines of: ‘James was dead, and I was the heir.’ It wasn’t clear who you were talking about or why it was so terrible.”

  “I’m not sure,” Harriet replied, trying to sound breezy. “I probably meant something else.”

  Harriet’s fear that Callum would force her to explain everything to Olamide faded at the sight of an over-excited Caroline perched on Ola’s desk.

  “Harriet! Just the person I’ve been looking for! Guess what happened last night?”

  Harriet had no idea. She wondered if Caroline’s evening had been as eventful as hers had.

  “I was asleep, and heard a knock at my door. It was the middle of the night so I wished they’d go away, but I got up to open it, and there’s Ben, dressed in white tie, slightly drunk and very wide-eyed. I was puzzled, but I asked him in. He didn’t say anything at first, just kissed me.”

  “Wow,” said Harriet, forgetting her own problems. “About time.”

  “Exactly. Then within minutes, we were in bed. All that tension we’ve been building up all term just exploded.” She smiled beatifically at the memory. “He went to the Cavaliers’ Party. Did you see him? I think they must have shaken some sense into him.”

  “Do you think this was a one off or are the two of you going to spend next term all loved up?” Harriet asked.

  “Well, last night we left no time for discussion,” Caroline said, grinning. “But he stayed the night, and this morning over breakfast we talked, and that’s it. We’re official.”

  Everyone congratulated the overjoyed girl.

  “Actually, I’ve got similar news,” Harriet said eventually. “There really must be something in the water at those Cavalier dinners, because I got together with Tom.”

  “You and Tom?” Olamide queried. “Didn’t you go with this George guy? And didn’t you decide you hated Tom after your argument in the bar?”

  “Yes, you sneaky thing, I think you’d better tell all,” said Caroline cheerfully. All her concerns of the night before appeared to have evaporated in the blur of new love.

  “It’s a bit of a long story, but basically, Tom walked me back from the party and explained a few things, and it all went from there.”

  “Well that’s just perfect. Tom and Ben get on well, so what do you say to the four of us going for a meal then onto Harry’s house party? Ola and Cal, you too of course if you’d fancy it.”

  Olamide and Callum agreed to the meal if not the party, and Harriet accepted with enthusiasm. With the exception of Callum, who quickly went back to the library, everyone was too overexcited for work or anything else productive, so the rest of the afternoon passed in a haze of tea, snacks and amusing YouTube videos, followed by a trip to G and D’s, a fantastic ice cream parlour in the town.

  At six, Harriet glanced through the windows and the lengthening shadows satisfied her that Tom must have woken up. The simple walk down their shared staircase wracked her nerves as much as descending a cliff. What if he’d had one of his odd mood changes and refused to speak to her? The moment he opened the door though, his wide grin reassured her, and her remaining doubts evaporated as he pulled her into his embrace.

  Once he’d stopped kissing her, she raised Caroline’s suggestion of a meal and then the party. “I didn’t think vampires ate food, but judging by last night it doesn’t seem to be a problem.”

  “We get no sustenance from normal food, but we can still enjoy the taste, and we generally like to live extravagantly,” Tom explained. “The meal sounds good. Ben’s a great guy, and I’d love to get to meet some of your friends properly. But Harry’s party is going to be swarming with Cavaliers out to judge him, and it’s best they don’t see us together.”

  Between her dislike of Harry and all the excitement of the evening before, Harriet hadn’t actually been that keen on the idea of the party, but at Tom’s words, she became determined to go.

  “If we’re going to be together I won’t have us hiding it. You say all the major Cavaliers are going to be there. I say fantastic; let’s let the whole vampire world know that we’re not afraid.”

  Tom sighed but agreed. They embraced once more and then set out to meet the other couples at the Porters’ Lodge.

  “Tom! Great to see you,” Caroline said. She clung so tightly to Ben that Harriet could hardly tell where one of them ended and the other began. Happiness radiated from both of them.

  “Thanks for the invite to the Cavaliers, mate,” Ben added. “I guess it must have been you anyway. I had an amazing time. Just got to make sure I get selected now.”

  “Lovely to see you too, Caroline. Ben, you’re welcome, and don’t worry about the next steps, I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

  Olamide and Callum stood there in silence. They tended to get nervous enough around Ben. Tom seemed to have entirely overawed them.

  The group ate a cheap and cheerful supper in a pizza restaurant. Even Caroline
ate a pizza. Clearly, she could do wheat when the mood took her. Red wine and new love made everyone happy and talkative. Ben told a funny story about a teacher he and Tom had had at Eton.

  “Why does he think the two of you were at school together?” Harriet whispered. “You must have gone decades ago.”

  “Oh, we all pretend we’ve just graduated from one of the top schools, ideally the one we actually went to back in the day, and mesmerise the recent alumni we meet into remembering spending time with us there. Otherwise, all the University’s smart set would wonder where on earth we’d appeared from.”

  Once they’d finished their coffees, Callum and Olamide made their excuses and headed home.

  “Party time,” said Caroline. “I can’t stand Harry, but with all the vote hunting I bet he’s going to make it a great night.”

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” Tom asked Harriet.

  “Mate, I’ve never known you turn down a party before,” Ben said laughing. “Don’t get all loved up and boring on me. I certainly don’t intend to, not even for my lovely Caroline.”

  Caroline giggled, but Tom glanced around him as though he expected the restaurant to be crawling with vampire assassins.

  “Come on, everyone,” Harriet said, in the voice she’d used for getting obstinate customers to drink up at the pub where she used to work. Before there could be any further discussion, she strode towards Broad Street. The others shrugged and followed.

  Harry lived at Hertford, only a short walk from the centre of town. He had a large room. and in addition, had taken over most of the rest of his staircase. They could hear the noise from the street.

  “This is going to get broken up by the porters within the hour,” Caroline said. “Harry really does have more money than sense. I don’t know why he couldn’t have hired a function room. I suppose he must want us to see all his lovely things.”

  With that, she dialled his number on her phone, and the host came out to let them into the college.

  The four of them had to fight their way through people to get into Harry’s room. Music played loudly, and the amount of food and drink could have kept the entire university fed and watered for a week. People sprawled on cushions and all over Harry’s bed.

  Harriet helped herself to a vodka and coke. She turned round and found George standing behind her, watching her in silence. Her hands shook so much that she nearly spilt her drink. She instantly regretted her confident words to Tom.

  “Turning up at the party with Tom I see,” he said coldly. “I hope this doesn’t mean what I think it does.”

  “George, I’m sorry. After Tom took me back last night, we had a talk, and things have just escalated from there.”

  George’s face looked paler than ever, frozen and betraying no emotions. Knowing her necklace could keep her safe from hypnosis, Harriet glanced into his bright green eyes and remembered just how terrifying he could be.

  “I don’t think you quite understand the situation you find yourself in,” he said. “Do you think that we give our blood to anyone and that it means nothing? You can’t toy with us the way you might with human men.”

  “Don’t give me that hypocritical rubbish. I’ve heard the stories about you, and even if they’re only half true, the number of women you must have slept with and fed off this term alone means you have no right to take the moral high ground.”

  George laughed bitterly at this. “Fucking and biting yes, that’s one thing. But not giving them my blood. Not opening myself up and taking them into my protection. I haven’t done that in centuries. And you expect me to accept that an hour later you were in a lesser vampire’s bed? You expect me to shrug that off without complaint?”

  “Look, I really am sorry. Last night was weird. I suppose I acted like a bit of a slut, but with all the shocks I had can you really blame me? As for the blood thing, I didn’t really know the significance of it and you made no effort to tell me.”

  “I would have thought someone as intelligent as you would have been able to work that one out without help. Did you see any of the other members donating to their guests?”

  Harriet took a deep breath before replying. “All I can say is that you’re charming and beautiful and even if you scare me a little I enjoy spending time with you. But it’s Tom that I want. I can’t change that and neither can you.”

  “Oh, we’ll see about that,” he replied, narrowing his bright eyes. “I’m going to speak to Augustine, speak to your mother, and speak to the council. In the meantime, I’m going to do everything I can to charm you back and to get Tom out of the way.”

  Tom walked over and put a possessive arm around her. “And how are you proposing to do that?” he asked.

  “Just watch your back, Flyte,” George hissed. “You might have taken leave of your senses and decided that rank no longer matters, and our leaders can be ignored, and anyone can get the girl, but that certainly doesn’t mean everyone else has.”

  “George, George, George,” said Rupert, appearing behind him from nowhere and putting a hand on his shoulder. “Go to the council and start your blood feud. If you want a war, I think you’ll find plenty of people willing to be on the other side. I’m certainly happy to lead them.”

  George closed his eyes as if chastened, but when he opened them again a moment later, they glowed with a new fury. “I’m sure you’re right Rupes. I’m not naive enough to think I don’t have my enemies. However, there’s one thing I know for certain. Get every other Cavalier against me if you will. In this matter, it won’t sway Augustine and Adelaide. He’s as set on finding an appropriate match for his stepdaughter as he’s ever been on any issue.”

  Rupert’s confident expression faltered.

  “And of course, for all your faults, I know you’re not a traitor and don’t defy authority. I’d almost say it’s your defining feature,” George added. He gave Harriet one last long look then strode away to talk to some other guests.

  “Are you all right?” Tom asked, tightening his hold on her, whilst Rupert looked on with a wry smile.

  “I’m fine. I knew something like that might happen, and it’s better to have got it over with. What about you? Are you worried by his threats?”

  “I wouldn’t say worried, no. I’m taking them entirely seriously, but that’s a different issue. I can take care of myself.”

  Harriet kissed his cheek, not wanting to provoke anyone further with a more full-on display. “In that case, give me five minutes to talk to him. There’s something I have to ask.”

  “Don’t be stupid,” Tom replied. “You’ve said your piece, now the best thing you can do is avoid him as much as possible.”

  Rupert nodded. “Much as I love provoking George, I agree with Tom. The two of you are taking a risk. Don’t make things more difficult than they have to be.”

  Caroline joined their little group, having finally let go of Ben. “I’ve told you before, if you won’t go to the police, you really should at least avoid George. After all, you’ve got Tom now.”

  Despite Caroline’s firm words, Harriet could see that her friend’s eyes lingered on George.

  Harriet ignored everyone’s protests and walked over to the corner where George had retreated. He was talking to Harry and another candidate called Richard.

  “George, can I just ask you one more thing?”

  “You two, leave us, now!” he commanded the two human boys, seemingly unconcerned about the fact that Harry was the host. In spite of their usual arrogance, they both scuttled off without complaint.

  “Unless you’re here to tell me that you’ve changed your mind, told Tom to never speak to you again and are going to make me an offering of your blood, I suggest you stay away for tonight,” he said smoothly.

  “This has nothing to do with any of that. Something happened today that I need to ask you about. Did you once have a brother called James?”

  George looked as though she’d given him an electric shock. Most of his earlier anger seemed
to have dissipated in a moment. “How do you know that?” he asked.

  “There’s more. I know he was killed at Edgehill and that you were there fighting beside him. I know you’ve resented some of the decisions the commanders made ever since. What I don’t know is where this knowledge is coming from.”

  “From my blood, obviously,” he said, without making eye contact. “Supposedly, people can imbibe a vampire’s human memories with their blood, although I’ve never actually seen it happen before.”

  “I see,” Harriet replied weakly.

  “Did you see James?” George asked, with more genuine emotion in his voice than she’d heard before.

  Harriet tried to explain that she hadn’t seen anything, had only had words put in her mouth and emotions in her mind, but then she caught his eyes and suddenly she really saw. She was riding a large grey horse, looking out from George’s eyes four hundred years ago. James rode beside her on his own similar but even huger steed. His long, curly, blond hair, framed a face which could be mistaken for George’s at a distance, but which up close seemed softer and gentler, with cherubic dimples in place of his brother’s angular cheekbones. His blue eyes sparkled, and he smiled as they rode, seemingly fearless, viewing the upcoming battle as a game.

  Harriet couldn’t stand to see the sweet, beautiful boy killed with her own eyes. She clenched her fists and focussed on the present. Immediately, she found herself back in Harry’s room, though in the back of her mind she could still hear battle drums.

  George grabbed her to stop her from falling backwards.

  “Yes, I saw him,” she said quietly. “He looked a lot like you, only...”

  “Nicer?” George finished for her. “Don’t worry; you wouldn’t have been the first to say it. I struggle to keep his face in mind most of the time, but I remember that much. There’s a Van Dyke portrait in the National Gallery of the two of us just before the war began if you want to test how effective your powers are.”

  “George, are you all right?” she asked quietly. Despite her own dizziness and discomfiture from the vision, George looked much worse, clearly struggling to maintain his customary composure.

  “I’ve seen so many people die since the change,” he said. “I’ve killed plenty of them personally, and others have just grown old and died in that tiresome way that humans do. I’ve even known people be killed in other wars. But I’ve never forgotten the time I saw my brother die. I’ve never felt that sort of horror ever again.”

  Harriet didn’t know what to say. She’d never expected to need to comfort the self-assured vampire.

  “If there’s one blessing, it’s that I didn’t really have time to mourn. A few days later I was turned, and if it doesn’t exactly make one forget, it certainly blurs emotions for a time.”

  “Who turned you?” Harriet asked. Hopefully he wouldn’t find it too intrusive a question.

  “You really don’t know your history, do you?” George said, some of his mocking tone returning. “I was turned by Richard, like almost all of us from that era.”

  “Fine, I know nothing. Who is Richard?”

  “Someone turned him early in the Wars of the Roses, though it’s not clear who did the deed. At various times over a two hundred year period, he achieved high positions at court. His greatest time, however, was when James I ruled the country. The King had an obsession with the supernatural– just think of the witch-hunts. Just as importantly, he loved handsome, charming young men. Richard provided him with both beauty and magic, and he became a great favourite.

  “Like many of his father’s men, Richard stayed around when Charles I took the throne. Dear old Charlie found him rather unnerving and would have sent him away if he’d dared. Once the Rebellion broke out though, he was pleased to have a loyal subject who couldn’t die and could kill men with his bare hands.

  “By all accounts, the rebel army soon told tales of a fanged monster who came in the night. I guess that for most of them it just confirmed their worst fears of what Charles’ godless allies were like.”

  “Well, I’m certainly looking forward to putting some of this in my next essay,” Harriet joked, but her flippant tone couldn’t disguise her fascination.

  “Eventually, some of the King’s commanders decided that if one unstoppable killing machine was good, a whole army of them would be better. The King commanded Richard to select some of the best men and turn them. The numbers were limited – after all, an entire army that couldn’t fight in the sun would have been useless - and they ensured they took only one son from each family, not wanting to deprive great houses of their loyal heirs. The following night, they summoned fifteen of us to the King’s tent.

  Harriet listened, wide-eyed. “And then what happened?”

  “Then of course, Richard turned us. Not all at once, there wasn’t enough blood in him for that. The King kept us away from the others, and for fifteen nights, one of us would be killed and rise again. Richard had called his master, Augustine, for help and permission. Augustine supervised and took sips of each person’s blood, but didn’t give any of his own. By the end, Richard was frail and exhausted, but the Royalist army had fifteen immortal young lords who were desperate to test out their new strength. We each had to drain a Roundhead prisoner to complete the transformation. They got me the man who’d killed James. I don’t think anyone has ever enjoyed their first meal more.”

  Harriet shivered at his joyful tone. “But the Cavaliers lost the war. How, with all of you on side?”

  “Oh, spoil my mood with your historical accuracy why don’t you?” George said. “The earlier parliamentarian commanders refused to accept the truth. They dismissed their men’s tales as superstitious nonsense. But then, Cromwell came along. If there’s one thing puritan pricks believe in, other than having a miserable time, it’s demons. He sent a group of New Model Army soldiers to deal with the problem once and for all. Spies were sent to find out about us, medieval texts were consulted, plans were made.

  “They set out one sunny morning with their Bibles, praying all the time. We had holed up in an old manor house to prepare for a siege. They found our stronghold and started a fire. Some of us burnt to death inside, others escaped only to be just as burnt by the sun. The screams roused some nearby soldiers on our side, who worked to put out the fire, cover the survivors in thick blankets to shield them from the sun, and beat back the attackers.

  “Of the newly made vampires, five were already dead, ten just alive. The commanders gave us survivors the captured enemies to drink from and encouraged us to drain them to the death. To speed up the healing process, some of the soldiers on our side offered small amounts of their blood, and we charmed the inevitable whores who followed the armies into feeding us too. Five of the initial survivors died of their injuries over the next few days, but five of us entirely recovered.

  “After the initial shock wore off, someone thought to ask the obvious question – where was Richard? We found out soon enough. He’d been captured and tortured, starved of blood, exposed to flashes of sunlight, staked everywhere but the heart. Cromwell wanted him to render the traitors the same service that he’d performed for the King’s men. He wanted his own vampire army.

  “Richard resisted for many weeks. Eventually though, they broke him, and he made five vampires for Cromwell. It didn’t go quite as well as those bastards had hoped. A weakened, tortured vampire cannot hope to create strong and beautiful offspring. Besides, the men they forced him to turn were dull, ugly brutes whom no self-respecting vampire would consider turning in the usual run of things.

  “When they awoke, they were hideous. Grey skinned, deformed, devoid of all charm and lacking any ability to play human. Nonetheless, as a watching commander proved when he tried to run one through with his sword, conventional methods couldn’t kill them, and they had superhuman strength. I can imagine Old Ironside’s delight. A fighting machine, and one without beauty and vanity and joy – he couldn’t have asked for more.”

  Georg
e broke off from his memories. “Tell me,” he asked Harriet, watching her closely, “have you ever noticed how there are basically two sorts of vampires depending on which books you read and which films you watch?”

  “You mean that there are the Anne Rice style glamorous brooding ones, and then there are the old fashioned scary Nosferatu monsters?” Harriet asked, her voice shaking slightly.

  “Exactly,” George said with a hint of a smile. “It’s us and them.”

  “So I’ve only come across the good sort of vampire so far?”

  “It doesn’t really have anything much to do with good and evil. Though yes, you’ve only met the glamorous ones - broadly speaking the Cavaliers and their descendants and supporters rather than the Roundheads and theirs. Oxford has always been the royalist stronghold, and all the vampires in this city are Cavaliers. It’s this side that your stepfather leads. The Roundheads and their hideous offspring aren’t seen around much nowadays. They’re mainly holed up in Scotland and bits of the north, and have their own leaders and hierarchies, but apart from the odd Scottish Prime Minister, not such an effective system of getting their people into positions of power.”

  George had clearly been lost in his memories, but suddenly he stood up straighter and looked at Harriet with his eyes narrowed. “So now you know. I can’t believe I even told you all of that after the way you’ve acted. I’m going to walk away now, and I suggest you don’t speak to me again until you’re ready to give in to me.

  “Oh and I wouldn’t bother asking Tom about any of this. Maybe you can take the twentieth century history option next term and drink his blood for the memories, although you could probably get the same effect by talking to your Grandmother.” He downed the wine he’d been holding and walked away once more.

  “Are you all right?” Tom asked, coming over. “That seemed heated. I wanted to intervene but didn’t think you’d thank me for it.”

  “I’m fine. He was just reminiscing about the Civil War.”

  “You really must have got under his skin. I’ve known George a long time, and I’ve never heard him talk about his human or early vampire life.”

  “Well, it’s since he let me taste his blood. It sounds weird, but I have some of his memories of that time.”

  “So he wasn’t just being inflammatory when he talked about your blood bond? Why did you do it Harriet? He isn’t wrong you know. In our culture, when a vampire offers his blood to a human and they accept, it really does signify a commitment that shouldn’t be broken.”

  “You’re not going to leave me over this are you?” Harriet asked, panic surging through her body.

  “Of course not,” Tom said. “I won’t ever do that. It’s just another problem that we could do without, on top of the issue with your mother.”

  Suddenly, Harriet heard a scream, and rushed to the staircase with the other guests to see what had caused it. Charles, one of last year’s new Cavaliers, lay slumped at the bottom of the staircase. He looked eerily pale even by vampire standards. Harriet’s eyes focussed on the bloody mark on his neck.

  “He’s been drained,” one Cavalier shouted to the rest of the group, his voice verging on the hysterical.

  “Harry, take your guests back to your room and lock the door. Fix everyone a lovely glass of wine and don’t let anyone out until I say so,” George said.

  Harry nodded, looking sick.

  “Everyone just keep calm and don’t think about this,” Rupert said soothingly. The human guests’ eyes immediately went blank, and they followed Harry back up the stairs like sheep, leaving Harriet standing with the Cavaliers.

  “No one is to leave until everyone’s been questioned,” George and Rupert said in unison, glaring at each other.

  “The wound. Does it look as though a human inflicted it or is it the work of one of us?” asked Crispin, the surly vampire Harriet had met at the dinner.

  George stared at Charles’ neck. “It looks vampiric to me, though any hunter worth his salt would try and make it look that way.”

  “Is he completely drained?” another member inquired.

  “He’s got a wound like that, and it isn’t bleeding. That suggests to me that there’s no blood left,” replied Rupert.

  “So we’re after someone who’s sufficiently desperate for power that they’d try to gain it in the most despicable way and who doesn’t give a damn about the rules and culture of our race,” George mused theatrically. “Tom, I’m looking at you.”

  “So you think that going out with someone you have a thing for is equal to draining one of our own do you?” Tom asked.

  “I think it’s the logical next step for someone who ignores a blood bond and denies a direct order from our first lady,” George said, glaring at him.

  Harriet hardly dared to speak in such a fraught environment, but forced herself to jump to Tom’s defence. “Tom’s been upstairs all night,” she said. “Come on George, you know this, you were speaking to him most of the time.”

  “I spent the rest of the time talking to you,” George said to Harriet. “I’d say we were sufficiently deep in memories not to have been keeping tabs on your precious boyfriend.”

  “He was with me whilst you were reliving old battles,” said Rupert. “This is ridiculous. It could have been anyone.”

  “We ought to let Augustine know,” Hugh said. “This needs to be handled in an official way.” His eyes looked puffy and his voice sounded choked. Harriet wondered whether vampires ever cried.

  Everyone nodded, and then agreed to take the body out to Christ Church meadow and burn it.

  “So vampires don’t just disappear in a cloud of dust when they die?” Harriet asked Tom.

  “The older ones do. They should have died and had their bodies rot away centuries before. Once they die, the spell is broken and time rushes back into them. But we only turned Charles last year. Vampire or human he should still be alive.” Tom had his head in his hands.

  Harriet had barely spoken to the dead vampire. Had Tom genuinely liked him, or did his emotions come from shock and horror?

  “So one vampire never usually drinks another’s blood, is that right?”

  “Absolutely. Our laws strictly forbid it, and most of us find the thought of it hideous anyway, almost like cannibalism. There have been cases of Cavaliers draining Roundheads and vice versa, and it apparently happened quite often in the dark ages when the newer vampires tried to get rid of the older ones, but within the same grouping it’s never done, even to your worst enemies.”

  “So why would someone do it? Especially to Charles, he seems fairly insignificant. Surely he doesn’t have enemies.”

  “Oh, for power, plain and simple. When a vampire drains another, he takes all of their power on top of his own and can get some of their maker’s. Of course, the stronger the vampire you drink from the better, but it would be practically impossible to keep someone like George or Rupert down long enough to finish them.”

  “Let’s go home,” Harriet said, after a few moments silence. “You were right; we never should have come tonight.”

  “It’d have been worse if I hadn’t been there. Much easier to point the finger of blame. Get Ben and Caroline. We shouldn’t leave them hypnotised in a room with twenty furious vampires who are looking for a scapegoat.”

  Harriet scurried off to pick up her friends. The hypnosis inflicted on the human guests had worn off, although no one seemed to have any memory of the dead boy. Even so, the whole room seemed subdued, as if their subconscious minds knew that something bad had happened. Harriet grabbed an unusually quiet Ben and Caroline, and the four of them walked back to college almost in silence.

  “Poor Harry,” Tom said, when at last they were alone and back in his room. “What a party. I think he just scuppered his chances of winning the Union election or the Cavaliers membership.”